Joey

I titled this entry just "Joey" because the story I want to share is the story of a real little boy, one with a name, with friends, and with a chance, if someone will give it to him. This is not really my story to tell, so I'm just going to explain why I'm asking you to read the story directly from Joey's mom and hope you let her tell you the story.For a few months now, a friend has been introducing me to Joey through her boys' friendship with him--how complicated insurance is, how generous people have been with donating to Joey's medical expenses, how much Joey loved his birthday party (which I helped cut out Minecraft shapes for, just so you know) even though he was incredibly tired that day. In many ways, Joey is like most fourth grade boys, loving origami, Boy Scouts, and reading. But last year, Joey was diagnosed with cancer, and he needs access to a new line of drugs that are about the only thing left that might make a difference.

Below is an email from my friend with links to the blog his mom keeps and the petition requesting that one of the drug companies allow compassionate use of these drugs. I'd be so grateful if you'd take a moment to read his story and consider adding your name to those asking these companies to show that they can be human as well.

Today a friend started a petition on change.org to try to pressure the drug companies to allow Joey to at least try the new medication that shows so much promise.  Please sign the petition and forward it on to others. The more public support we get, the more pressure is put on the drug companies.  

More information about Joey and his journey is available at teamjoeyx.blogspot.com or https://www.facebook.com/teamjoeyxu

Here is the link to the petition: http://www.change.org/petitions/genentech-please-grant-10-year-old-juntao-joey-xu-compassionate-use-of-your-anti-pd-1-l1-immunotherapy-drug-he-has-exhausted-all-other-options-and-cannot-wait-for-pediatric-trials-to-begin?recruiter=89789658&utm_campaign=signature_receipt&utm_medium=email&utm_source=share_petition#supporters
 
And if you know someone who might be interested in Joey's story or want to add their name to the petition, please feel free to forward them the information!

Of Tracy and Tiaras

Last week was Royalty Week at the library. What does this mean? I have no idea, except that the children's staff was celebrating it, and those children's folks know how to have fun. 

"Royalty week?" I inquired, perking up from whatever work I was doing at the time. "I have a tiara! Can I wear my tiara? Would it help if I wore my tiara?" Seeing a few raised eyebrows, I backtracked a bit. "You know, to support the children's department?" 

Luckily, I had a cohort in my attempt to be treated as a princess. Or a queen. Whatever. My co-worker, Suzi, gasped in amazement. "I have a tiara, too!" she declared, adding "We absolutely have to wear our tiaras for the rest of the week." Or maybe I added that part.

Either way, the next morning, I grabbed my tiara. It really didn't matter whether or not it went with what I was wearing. Tiaras go with everything. I put it on and headed out the door. Only when I knocked it off ducking into the car did it occur to me that it might look odd for someone to be driving down the road with a tiara on, and perhaps I should wait until I was actually in the library to begin my reign. Not that it bothered me, but I didn't want to cause some unsuspecting driver to have an accident.

I got lots of smiles as I moved through my day. What is it about a tiara that makes one feel pretty, special, well, royal? You stand a little straighter, speak with a little more self-assurance, hold your head a little higher. Surely you must be beautiful if you're wearing a tiara, so we behave with a renewed sense of self-respect. And aren't these things we should all do, every day, with or without a tiara? 

Funny thing about wearing tiaras, and that's how quickly you forget that you are wearing one. Which explains why I walked into a a meeting of the library's governing board with the tiara still on my head. Maybe it was the tiara that got me noticed by the board chair, starting his meeting by saying to the group "I see we're in the presence of royalty today" and grinning at me. Or maybe it was the fact that I was standing taller, smiling wider, and walking with poise.

And maybe, we don't even need tiaras to see ourselves as beautiful, confident, worthwhile, unique people. But they never hurt.

The First Time in Twelve Years: Staff Development Day part 2

A staff development or training day is fairly common in public libraries. It's often something like an "all staff" meeting and usually includes some sort of professional development component with speakers and workshops and, in some unfortunate cases, flip chart paper with colored dots. It can be difficult to get everyone together when you're keeping multiple locations open to the public, so this a staff day is frequently the only opportunity available for getting to know co-workers from other branches or providing information to everyone at once. Last month, my library held it's first staff development day in about twelve years.

As seems to be the case with many things in my life, I hadn't intended to get quite so involved. I'm never sure exactly how it happens. I have every intention of just "consulting" or "helping out," but before I know it, I'm in over my head. Sadly, by the time I figure out how that happens, I probably will truly be in over my head. Literally. So, when my boss said she'd like me to sit in on the committee charged with putting this day together, I had visions of telling other people to do things and then sitting back and taking the credit. Everybody's got to have a hobby.

In case you haven't figured out where this is going, that's not how it worked out. I tend to be either all in or all out. I had ideas. I knew people who would be just right for a project. I'd been in a staff day before where we tried that. Quick as a lightning bug (if you don't know how quick that is, you don't live south of the Mason-Dixon), I found myself planning several programs and coaching several staff members who were planning their own. I loved it and had great fun, but I'm going to need a few lifetimes before I have the energy to do that again.

Not that it wasn't worth it. Over the course of only three months, we planned an amazing day. No one who reads here will be surprised to hear that my favorite program was the book buzz I planned. Or buzzes, as there turned out to be three of them. I was able to get representatives from three of the largest publishers in the country to come talk to staff about upcoming books and get them excited about reading in general. This was great fun for me, and I truly could have just listened to these folks talk all day. But in addition to that, I planned a program to promote our music and movie collections by having staff from a local theater and radio group to come in. I got in touch with one of our vendors and arranged for a well-know audio book narrator come speak to all staff for the closing session. AND I planned a program meant to revolve around science fiction and fantasy genres as seen by a local author. Oh, well, there's a story.

I was panicking a little. Staff day was only a few weeks away, and I still didn't know what this science fiction and fantasy program was going to look like. At this point, I was open to anything. I chose the topic because it's not something I read myself, anyone asking me for recommendations in this area strikes fear in my heart, so it seemed like a good subject to learn more about. But where in the world was I supposed to find someone? I started sending out a bunch of emails asking if there was interest out there, mostly to local authors who had done some self-publishing or reading in this area. My inbox remained empty (well, not really, but at least it wasn't full of responses to my call for help). Someone finally suggested I ask a co-worker known for reading in this area for help. It was like the clouds parted.

"I haven't even been able to reach this author," I explained, pointing to a name in my notebook. "He's self-published, but he seems to have made a good name for himself around here. His emails keep bouncing back to me with a bad address!" I slammed the notebook in exasperation.

My colleague waved her hand. "Oh, I'm Facebook friends with him," she dismissed me quickly. "I'll send him a message and ask if he'd come speak for us." 

Having recovered from my heart attack, I told her that the one person I hadn't tried to contact was a rather well-known author who happened to be local and who'd been venturing into fantasy. It would be quite a coup, and I hadn't thought I really had a shot. She encouraged me to go for it, and so I dashed off an email asking if he'd be willing to participate in some way. I described my thoughts of talking about the genres, making recommendations for reading, maybe talking about the publishing process in this genre. Imagine my surprise when I got almost an immediate reply asking for the date. Yes, I'd managed to email this practically-famous author and forget to include the date of the event. I sent it off to him, told him we'd love to work with him if possible, and asked my co-worker to take over the negotiations. It was a week before we got a confirmation that he could attend; meanwhile, the author my co-worker contacted via Facebook had also come through. How exciting--two very different people with different perspectives. Great! So we thought. Until about a week ahead of the event, when the major author's wife emailed to say that there must have been a "misunderstanding" and that the author couldn't possibly sit on a panel with a self-published author--she was sure we understood obligations to his publisher. It was incredibly disappointing, in great part because of the tone of this woman's email. It's almost certain that this author's publisher would not have had a problem with this. He didn't confirm acceptance right away, so yes, we agreed to another author and could only be excited at the thought of multiple points of view for our staff. We gave him some ideas of what we had in mind but let him know we were totally open to what kind of program this could be. Never did he get back to us and say anything like "here's what I'd like to do" or "here's what I'd need to be able to do this." While I sort of understand it, to actually pull out of an accepted invitation to speak to about 40 staff members at your LOCAL PUBLIC LIBRARY for about 45 minutes is just not very nice. He (or his wife) lost an opportunity to get staff to talk up his books to patrons.

I guess I'm still bitter.

But the day arrived, and the committee had put together a really fantastic program. Against all odds, we managed to get funding for a light breakfast, lunch, and snacks for the staff so they could take their break times to network with their co-workers instead of seeking sustenance. One staff member had put together an amazing slide show of pictures of staff and programs from all locations. It played all day, and it was a great gathering point for staff before the day started and between workshops. A few staff members read tarot cards during the morning "meet and greet" as a bit of a low-key ice breaker. We had a couple of very impressive speakers to discuss various aspects of customer service, and our opening session involved bananas, Fiji, and a speaker in Bermuda shorts. What else could you want?

Books, of course. Lots and lots of books. The publisher reps coming to buzz about upcoming titles had a ton of galleys to share, and they did a fantastic job of getting staff excited about the books they were reading. The comments we received in the evaluations staff completed the next day confirmed that staff love getting books and tote bags. 

Other workshop options were endless. There was training on the human resources used by supervisors and on tips and tricks for using the library's database and circulation software. There were hands on sessions for getting into "computer guts" and hand held reading devices. We had several sessions on the psychology behind providing excellent customer service, even to unusual patrons...even to unusual coworkers! One speaker spoke to interview skills. A couple of children's department staff members, recently back from a workshop on face painting and balloon animals, shared their new-found skills with programmers looking for new ideas, alongside a storytelling session led by some retired staff members and a representative of a local storytelling group. Our county provided a speaker from the folks running our retirement plans on financial planning and investing. Even the staff in facilities had some sessions aimed directly at them with training in basic Excel and energy management. We really could not have asked for a better selection of programs.

At the end of the day, we all came back together for what might have been most staff members' favorite speaker, the audio book narrator. He offered a great combination of information about the production and narrating of one of our most popular material formats and humor...they were rolling in the aisles. The great thing was that this was something that could appeal to almost everyone. The narrator works primarily with children's books, though he's done adult titles as well, so he'd had experiences that were familiar to all of us. We learned lots of insider info that we could share with our audio book listeners. And with the exception of one staff member who later said he didn't enjoy the narrator's sense of humor, all the feedback indicated they found him hysterically funny. It was a great way to end the day on a positive note.

The evaluations came in, and the response was great. For the most part, everyone enjoyed the day, felt they learned something, reconnected with staff they don't see often, and had a good time. Some of the evaluation comments were entertaining:

I think I can now work with my co-workers.
I didn't understand how lunch worked.
Free stuff!
He's so sexy!
I liked the lady who read the Hello, Kitty! book.
He's so fluffy I'm gonna die! (Okay, that's actually a quote from Despicable Me 2, but it makes me laugh every time I hear it)

Even the critiques were fair and helpful, and we've got some good ideas about where to improve next time. 

Wait, there's going to be a next time? 

The Publisher's Marketing Manager and the Diseased Brownies: Staff Development Day part 1

Someone was in my apartment this weekend. Happily, it was an invited someone and not a stranger. 

While working in Raleigh, I was lucky enough to get to know the library marketing manager for a major publisher who was telecommuting from Chapel Hill. Recently, she agreed to come down and be part of a book buzz at my current library's staff development day. Talia is a ball of energy and has a sense of humor that rivals my own, so I asked her stay with me while she was in town. Not only was it the least I could do, but she'd be great entertainment for the weekend.

I picked her up from the airport on a sunny Sunday morning. "Oh!" she commented. "Its so pretty here!" Talia is nothing if not very well-mannered.

"Don't judge Gainesville by this side of town," I warned her. Because despite her enthusiasm, we were driving through an industrial area on our way into downtown and the edge of campus. 

She was insistent. "But, it's Florida!" she exclaimed. Considering that she'd just left a snow-covered North Carolina, anyplace where she could see pavement was probably acceptable. 

"Well, now," I responded, raising my eyebrows, "you don't see any palm trees, do you?" I explained that, in many ways, Gainesville and northern Florida is not like the rest of Florida, with a different climate and topography. Talia dismissed this with a wave of her hand. She was happy just to be anywhere in Florida. I love people who are easy to please.

My mind never being very far from food, I asked Talia if she was hungry. She tilted her head like she was considering this when I added, "I made brunch reservations for ten minutes from now."

She beamed. "Oh, good, I'm starving." Once again, easy to please. 

Brunch was lovely, full of excellent food and talking over one another in between bites. We were especially amused by the man who was charged with keeping the buffet full and fresh and found it necessary to announce what he was delivering at every pass through the dining room. Afterwards, we made a requisite trip trip through Target, as I wanted to illustrate that the floorplan of the Gainesville Target is simply wrong. We love Target (and since Talia found two pairs of shoes in less than ten minutes, I'm including her in the Target heartfest), but this one really needs to be rearranged. I'm just saying.

Making it back to my apartment, Talia finally got to meet Sasha. I think it was pretty clear that Sasha would have been all over her immediately if it wasn't for her even more immediate need for Fancy Feast. A girl's gotta have priorities. We settled in, and it wasn't long before Sasha's affinity for my lap was quickly replaced.
 









At this point, I need to explain that I had prepared for Talia's visit and the upcoming Staff Development Day with boxes of brownies and lemon bars. I rarely cook or bake (if you can call mixing up something from a box baking), but I had someone here to encourage me and an event at which I could share, so what better time to pull out the mixing bowls? Also, I could blame someone else if they didn't come out right. I spent a good bit of time comparing mixes to make just the right choice for this rare baking event. Some of the rejected candidates include:

I can't eat multi-colored food, especially if one of the colors is blue.

Is there enough cookie in that brownie?

Maybe others don't like PB & Chocolate as much as I do

Way too reminiscent of something healthy

I try to buy American

I settled on a box of lemon bars and a different brand of chocolate chip cookie brownies. Talia, being of similar mind, agreed that there was really no need to venture back out of the apartment when we had perfectly good brownies for dinner, not to mention the entire first season of Breaking Bad to watch.

We started with the lemon bars, Talia quickly showing mad baking skills by preparing the mix. "I need a tablespoon of water," she read from the box. This being something I could manage, I grabbed a measuring spoon and prepared the water. While she continued with the mix, I greased the pan. "How smooth do you think this needs to be?" she asked me. Like I knew. Luckily, we were working on a bottle of wine, so after a while, the texture of the lemon bar mix just didn't seem all that important.

Talia having the lemon bars under control, I moved on to the cookie brownies. See Tracy bake. You might never see it again.

Talia helped me finish the cookie brownies by dropping teaspoons of chocolate chip cookie mix onto the brownie batter already in the pan. "This doesn't look right," she said, peering at the pan. 

"It's brownies and chocolate chip cookies. How's it supposed to look?" I responded, motioning her to keep going. Eventually, we popped the pans into the oven and turned back to the counters to clean up (and I say that like it wasn't Talia who ended up doing the dishes. Great manners, that one.). "Um, whats that?" I asked, pointing at the measuring spoon of water for the lemon bars, still on the counter. Talia looked stricken. She looked at the measuring spoon. She looked at the oven. She looked back at the measuring spoon. She looked at me. I shrugged.

"The lemon bars are going to be a bit dry," she announced.

We settled into the living room. Talia got me invested in Breaking Bad while we waited, so my perfect Sunday afternoon of food, wine, friends, and television was complete. 

At one point, she got up to check on the brownies. "I really don't think these look right," she called from the kitchen. "They're diseased! They look like they have small pox!"

"Well, they smell great," I replied. I was not to be deterred from chocolate and sugar that easily. A short time later, we went in to pull them out of the oven. She was right. The cookie brownies kind of looked diseased. Or like a Jersey Cow. One of those. Talia refused to bring them to Staff Development Day, saying she wanted nothing to do with diseased brownies. But because we'd pulled them out of the oven just a bit early, they were nice and gooey and tasted just fine. Even if they were diseased.

Coming soon: Staff Development Day part 2

Keeping Up with the Joneses

This morning (just to be clear, morning on a Sunday refers to noon to 2pm), I finally got to catch up on some book reviews I've been wanting to write. My need to do them justice means I've put it off longer than I should (kind of like my blog entries), which means I've probably forgotten the best thoughts I had while reading them, which means everyone else I know has already reviewed the same books, probably better, and tweeted them far and wide, which means...well, you get the picture.

My name is Tracy, and I'm a book addict. I love talking with other people about what we're reading, and I love sharing my thoughts about what I've read with other people. Is that the same thing? In any case, I'm extremely lucky to be have a number of outlets for my addiction. As a librarian, many of my co-workers share this fondness for books, if not always to the obsessive level at which I find myself. I've had opportunities for getting to know publisher representatives at conferences, and I try to repay their kindnesses by sending along my thoughts about the many advance copies of upcoming books they send me. I have an account at Edelweiss, which the uninitiated might think is a Sound of Music Fan Club, but no, is actually an online community of publishers, booksellers, and librarians offering purchasing opportunities for booksellers and digital advance copies for book pushers (I told you it was an addiction). Recent improvements have made it a fantastic spot for sharing reviews with colleagues and publishers, and most recently, for voting for favorite books among librarians nation-wide in, to be shared with patrons via the new LibraryReads program, who love to know what librarians are reading (as well they should). Similarly, while I continue to refuse to get back on Facebook, I haunt Goodreads, which allows me to see what the general public is reading and enjoying as well as friends and family. I finally gave in and got a Twitter account, which is quite busy considering I use it only for keeping up with book, author, publisher, and library-related news. I've said it once, and I'll say it again...authors are my rock stars. And I try to participate in GalleyChat, a monthly chat about the advances my fellow librarians are reading sponsored by the fabulous Earlyword. 

And, you know, it's starting to feel a little like I'm that kid in school who can't manage to keep up with the rest of the class. Or that person in the neighborhood who has the smallest house and not nearly as many bells and whistles as the people next door. Don't get me wrong. I adore being part of all of these stomping grounds. But I'm amazed at how far ahead everyone else seems to be! They're putting out multiple reviews a month and seem to have read everything out there before it's ever published. I do read a few advances a month, but there's plenty out there I haven't read even AFTER it's been published, so I'd like to pull one of those out once in a while as well. And while there's a time and place for every type of book, my taste generally seems to run to less literary books than some of the people on these sites, so even when I've read several advances in time for a GalleyChat or a LibraryReads voting deadline, they're not necessarily the books everyone's talking about. I don't know how these folks manage to read everything they do as far ahead as they do!

So, I keep working at it. I'm nothing if not stubborn. I threw myself into it this morning and wrote several reviews of books that I really feel strongly about and want to share, maybe convincing someone to try one who wouldn't have otherwise. This is why I wanted to be a librarian from the start. It takes time to then post your review to all these places and hit all the people who might be interested, but it can be worth it. Last week, a friend submitted a 4 of 5 rating for a book I'd suggested to her, but which I'm not sure would have come across her radar otherwise. After I posted my reviews to what felt like a million places this morning, the author of one of them squealed "thank you!" back at me. Last time I commented on GalleyChat, the publisher retweated it to its thousands of followers. And I persevere. I may eventually be persevering via fewer venues, but I persist nonetheless.

But at the same time, I'm not going to lose the love I have for books by trying to keep up with all those people out there who seem to be ahead of me in their zeal for commenting on new books ahead of publication. Three of the four books I reviewed this morning have already published. One was published several months ago, but I decided to share my fondness for it anyway. I mostly only review books that I want to recommend, and I'm going to do so whether the book is new or not. If I can fit in some of those same advances everyone else is tweeting about, great. I have an unofficial 50 page rule, the general spirit being that life's too short and there are too many good books out there to keep reading something I'm not enjoying, advance publicity or not. I also really like listening to audio books, which generally don't come out in an advance form ahead of the print release, so if that means everyone's talking about it before I get there, well, then I'll have something to look forward to.

And now I must go get ready for my library's upcoming Book Buzz, at which we'll have not one, not two, but THREE major publisher representatives live and in person to tell us what's going to be hot this Spring and Summer. I'm a lucky girl.
 

Unwritten Rules

“How are you?

It’s a rule.  Leave an empty stall between you and the next person in a public bathroom.  Don’t double dip the Ruffles.  You have thirty seconds to pick up food from the floor before it becomes contaminated (this is known as the “30-second rule” and is widely thought to have originated with college students).  Calories don’t count if you eat standing up, and eating directly out of the ice cream box while standing up actually results in negative calories. And, at all costs, don’t talk to other patients in the waiting room of the doctor's office.  In fact, don’t even look at them. Your eyes will burn and you will go blind. You might pick up the cold to end all colds. Everyone knows these things. No one has to tell you. They’re the rules.

So when I heard someone behind me ask how I was doing as I waited for the receptionist in the doctor’s office to finish her phone call (how does she type with nails that long?) so she could take my co-pay, I was certain I hadn’t heard correctly. Are you new? Don’t you know that you’re not supposed to talk to other people in a doctor’s office? My heart beat faster. She can’t possibly be talking to me.

“Are you doing okay today?

Crap. She is talking to me. She should be averting her eyes and pretending she doesn’t see me. Why isn’t she staring with fascination at the abstract painting of…something abstract…on the wall? I don’t understand.

I turned slowly towards the woman, glaring at the receptionist in the process, who was watching with undisguised curiosity as her fingers continued to fly over the keyboard (how does she do that?) and she held what appeared to be quite an animated phone conversation. Clearly, I was on my own here.

“Oh,” I replied, carefully arranging a puzzled look on my face, “Fine, thanks.”  Anyone with any sense would hear “I can’t imagine why you’re asking.  Be gone with you.” I wished I could add the visual effect of waving my fingers like I’m trying to brush her away, but it seemed an unnecessary embellishment to what should be a pretty obvious dismissal.

But I’d forgotten that this woman clearly didn’t know the unwritten rules and was, evidently, not the sharpest tool in the shed anyway. Or maybe she was just persistent. Either way, she was not to be deterred.

“Oh, okay." She was unconvinced. Her dark brown curls bounced as she cocked her head to the side and peered at me from behind her big, round glasses.  She seemed rather ordinary, normal even, so I didn’t know why her upbringing had not included an introduction to the unwritten rules. She must have been neglected as a child. Raised by a Honduran nanny, maybe.

The receptionist had now finished her phone call and glanced at the woman a little uneasily before taking my credit card. Do they train doctor’s receptionists on how to recognize crazy? Was this woman unstable? I remember practicing in school for emergencies with fire drills, tornado drills, even bomb threat drills, but I don’t think we had crazy drills. However, I breathed a sigh of relief that I could now turn away from Crazy Lady and back to the receptionist.  Surely this would make her take the hint.

Disappointed, Crazy Lady struggled to accept the inattention. “So, which doctor do you see?” Are you kidding me? What have I done to give you the impression that I want to chat? I signed my credit card slip and closed my eyes.  Maybe if I couldn’t see Crazy Lady, she wouldn’t be able to see me.  Or she would disappear by the time I opened my eyes.

“Who's your doctor?” she repeated.  My God, this woman just wouldn’t give up. Did she think I just hadn’t heard her the first time? Obviously, this was going to require a different approach.  I didn’t have time for etiquette lessons. I looked pointedly at the receptionist (possibly she keeps her nails this long in case she needs them as weapons against patients like Crazy Lady) and began to discuss how to get my lab results with the importance with which one might discuss the next presidential election. Or AIDS research. Or nuclear war.

This did not go over well with Crazy Lady. “Oh, I see, you don’t want to tell me.”  She stares down at the floor for a few seconds. NOW she gets a clue. But I’ve hurt her feelings in the process. Why is this bothering me? I didn’t do anything. Except upset what is probably a very nice lady who is more than a little bit crackers. That can’t be a good way to go. Bad karma. Crazy lady, probably already on the verge of a psychotic break, paused to consider her next question. 

The receptionist, with the speed usually found only in turtles, handed me the card with the lab's web site address. She was no doubt enjoying this exchange. Probably saw it two or three times a day. So how come she couldn’t jump in and save me? Did I mention that I don't understand?

Crazy Lady took one last shot. “So, are the doctors here better with men or women?” What? What kind of question is that? I just moved here and was only here long enough to get some blood taken. How would I know? Wait, maybe she’s not asking me. Of course.  She must be asking the increasingly amused receptionist. But no, I discovered, glancing over to my left, she was still looking at me.  I looked back at the receptionist, eye to eye, mentally arm wrestling for the responsibility of having to respond to Crazy Lady. She held my gaze, slowly pushing my imaginary arm down further. I lost.

I tucked my appointment card into my purse. “I imagine it depends on who you see” I suggested brightly, zipping my purse and throwing one last plea for help back at the receptionist. When did it get to be my responsibility to train others in the unwritten rules? Not my pig, not my farm. 

Crazy Lady, a little unsure as to what to do with this response, stood quietly, waiting for more.  I smiled tightly as I began to walk out of the office.  Her education was complete.

Countdown to the New Year and an Old You

I'm counting down to 2014 with with the top ten ways I know I'm getting old. 


Ten!
My favorite books are older than the people to whom I want to recommend them.

Nine!
I had to ask my boss for help with Facebook.

Eight!
I can manage to reach down to the floor in one smooth movement, but it takes three awkward movements and several pops and cracks before I can get up again. And I tried to do something else on the floor while I was down there. Possibly clean something. But probably not.

Seven!
When I saw a woman approach a young man and whisper "Do you know your pants are falling down, honey?" I actually thought "You go girl!"

Six!
My cat was born before the people who graduated high school this summer.

Six point five!
My medicine cabinet has actual medicine in it.

Five!
I still own a VCR. In fairness, I can't remember the last time I used it, but I do still have it. And two tapes from 1987 full of 21 Jump Street episodes. Why else would I still have it?

Four!
I thought my eyes had a lovely new shine to them until I realized it was my progressive lenses.

Four point five!
When someone says we're meeting at 10, I no longer assume that means 10pm.

Three!
People have started to tell me that I've already told them that story.Which I kind of remembered having told, but I couldn't remember to who.

Two!
My favorite television station is no longer MTV but HGTV.

Two point Five!
I start a blog entry in 2013, intending for it to be the last of the year, but end up finishing it in 2014.

Oooooonnnnnnneeeee!
When I open my web browser to entertainment news, I don't know who half of the people being mentioned are or recognize most of the names. Nor do I care.

Happy New Year!

PS: I would have listed my affinity for going to Target rather than to a local bar or dance club, but I think Target is the place to be no matter how old you are. Or is that just another sign that I'm getting old?

It's a Small World

A name like mine, the English translation of which has been rumored to mean "woman chaser," means that I'm rarely mistaken for someone else. I do not get calls for someone else with the same name. I do not get pizzas delivered to me mistakenly because the people down the street have a name one letter off of mine (although I've considered changing my name for just this sort of opportunity). And I do not get prescriptions meant for someone else because our names looked so much alike. I DO have to spell my name repeatedly to people who can't quite wrap their mind around the idea that not everyone is named Smith or Jones.

All of which means that I was not all that surprised when I recently found a piece of mail in my box addressed to my family with the name misspelled by two letters. While I am not usually confused for someone else, my name is frequently misspelled, so I didn't think much of it. But I did look at the envelope more closely. It was clearly a Christmas card. Who was sending me a Christmas card but couldn't manage to spell my name correctly? The return address was a name I didn't recognize, but it was in the town in which I was born in New Jersey, so perhaps it was a family member who had married into a name that didn't immediately ring a bell. Despite the fact that I'm horrible about sending out Christmas cards, amazingly enough, I continue to receive some, even from family that I don't often see. But wouldn't you think a family member would know how to spell my name? I squinted at the envelope. Look at that.The apartment number was one digit off as well. These folks must really have been in a hurry to get out their Christmas cards.

I threw the envelope in my bag and headed into my apartment. My bag being something of a black hole, I didn't see or think about it again for several days. When the weekend arrived, and I began pulling apart all of the items I'd thrown in there during the week, I once again peered at the envelope. Finally curious enough to actually open it, I found one of those photo-cards with holiday greetings from a family that appeared to be made up of a couple and their young daughter. Cute. But I still didn't know who these people were.   Now, the older I get, the worse my memory is getting, and I'm lucky I can remember where to go home each day. The name was almost mine. The apartment number was only one digit off. And it was in my mailbox. Was it possible that this card wasn't meant for me?

Because anything worth knowing can be found on Google, I decided to Google the name as written on the envelope, along with "Gainesville, Florida," and see if I could find any evidence that someone by that exact name did exist.  And, indeed, they did. It seemed that there was a couple with that last name here in Gainesville, although every reference to an address that turned up was on the other side of town. Still, it was awfully coincidental. Even more interesting, the man was a customer service manager with Publix, which made me laugh, since we'd been having great discussion about having someone representing Publix's excellent customer service philosophy speak at our upcoming Staff Development Day. Maybe this was a sign. 

I marveled at the way all of this came together and considered the evidence. Let me get this straight. Someone with a name just a few letters off of my extremely usual moniker lived in the apartment across the breezeway from mine. In the city in Florida to which I moved only nine months ago. And knows people in the small New Jersey town in which I was born. Does exactly the job that my co-workers were saying needs to be covered at a work function. It couldn't be more obvious that I needed to meet these people. Now, I quite value my alone time and am careful about when I choose to increase the circle of people around me. Plus, I don't usually know my neighbors. Not that I don't want to, really, but then they want to start borrowing a cup of sugar and eggs, and, well...I don't cook.

But I was beginning to feel the need to make an exception. I just don't come across people with a similar name to mine very often, and certainly not one with connections to to my hometown (even if I did only live there for the first six months of my life). I wanted to know these people. In fact, I was sort of excited about meeting my neighbors. Maybe they even knew people that my family knew. Their friends on the Christmas card looked nice enough, anyway.

And then I remembered. Just a couple of weeks ago, I'd noticed that the apartment complex management was updating that apartment. The door stood wide open for two days while they hauled in the new kitchen cabinets and sink from the front lawn (thank goodness, as I was really cranky about the kitchen sink laying out on the grass like this was a junk yard). Evidently, the last residents had moved out, and they were updating before new people moved in. I wouldn't know, what with never really meeting the previous residents and all. But it seemed a reasonable assessment. At the time, I only noticed this in relation to the fact that I was still living in an apartment needing upgrading while the one across the breezeway was getting a face life. I could leave for two days, if that's all it took. But now, I felt disappointed, realizing that my chance to know the people who could be distant cousins had passed. There would be no exclamations of delight over how close our name were. No "do you know...'s?" over people in New Jersey that we might have in common (okay, since I lived there as a baby and haven't been back in more years than I like to count, this was unlikely, but one can hope). No offers to come speak at my library's training day. For free. Despondent, I set the envelope back down. So much for a reunion.

I am amazed at how many connections we have to one another that we don't even know about. My dad's cousin married a boy who used to play with my mom when they were kids. A friend has been babysitting for the daughter of one of my favorite authors. The person running the volunteer program with which I occasionally help out used to run a

similar program back in Raleigh and knew a good friend of mine. Ferris Bueller's sister Jeannie ran into people all over town who, it turned out, knew her brother and were greatly impacted by his supposed illness. You never know when an unexpected network gets a little bigger. Or, could get a little bigger if people just wouldn't move before you go introduce yourself. As Ferris said, life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

The Never List by Koethi Zan

Ten years ago Sarah and her best friend were abducted and imprisoned in a cellar already containing two other victims. Now, Sarah lives with the guilt of having escaped when Jennifer didn’t. News that the convicted abductor may be released prompts Sarah to contact the other survivors and set out on a search she hopes will lead to information about the whereabouts of Jennifer’s body but may lead her right into a trap.

This book scared me straight out of my pants! Fair warning, it turned out to be something of a difficult read, not because it was terribly graphic, but because the author was so good at describing just enough for your imagination to take over and create some very dark places. The first half or so of the book is suspenseful, building relationships and understanding of the Sarah and the other victims. But as the Sarah starts to put the pieces together, surprises fall one right after the other…into a black hole that will make the calmest of readers feel chills.

My one small issue is that, despite the fact that Sarah and Jennifer had always been overly cautious, even creating a “never list” of things they would never do to ensure they stayed safe, Sarah continued to put herself in dangerous situations. I’m not sure someone who’d been through what she had would do that, but then, who knows what anyone would do after having been abducted and tortured.

The Never List is a creepy thriller that will have readers reading all night…and wishing there was daylight.

It's Better to Be Kind Than to Be Right

While I first read this phrase as the life philosophy of Pat Peoples, protagonist of one of the most perfect novels of our times, The Silver Linings Playbook, it turns out, someone said it long before Pat (or his creator, Matthew Quick). Just who, I'm not really sure. Seriously, if Google or Wikipedia can't give me the answer, is it really worth knowing? But getting back to the point, this may just be one of the wisest expressions I've ever heard.

The Google search did help me narrow down the full quote:

“Sometimes it’s better to be kind than right. We don't need a brilliant mind that speaks, but a patient heart who listens.” - See more at: http://familyshare.com/it-is-better-to-be-kind-than-right#sthash.re00giRQ.dpuf

Sometimes its better to be kind than right. We don't need a brilliant mind that speaks, but a patient heart who listens.

But here's what I've recently been noticing. It's really easy to insist we're right. It's not so easy (or common) to be kind. How many of us wave the car across from us into the parking spot we were waiting for? Or let the lady behind us in line at the grocery store with two young children go first? Or stayed late at work to help a colleague or finish an important project, even though you were off the clock? I admit it...I really like to be right. But I really want to be kind. So I started paying attention to instances of both, and I saw some really interesting things. 

On a recent episode of the television show Shark Tank (yeah, yeah, I've seen a few episodes), I watched an extraordinary measure of kindness. A simple Florida farmer asked for funds to continue making a product that keeps trees moist, much needed by Florida tree growers. His only goal was to continue following the example set by his father and helping others save their farms, only charging enough money to make $1 off each item (no, there are no zeros after that 1, it's seriously $1). After being told by one shark that he couldn't make enough money with that kind of business plan, guest shark John Paul DeJoria, co-founder of Paul Mitchell hair products, gave him everything he asked for. He told him he admired his work and desire to be good to his fellow farmers, and while he didn't say so, he clearly was supporting kindness over making money. Just a few days later, I watched my first and last episode of Extreme Cheapskates (hey, there was nothing else on). I watched someone explain that he didn't want to have to pay a water bill, so he went to the laundry mat. Oh, not to do his laundry for only a couple of dollars, but to ask people to let him put his laundry in with theirs. Is that right? Well, a few people were kind enough to say "yes." I also saw a lady paint her baby's nursery by going from paint store to paint store asking for free samples (which normally were $3). But she didn't think she should have to pay for them. I'm pretty sure that's not right. But, again, people were kind.
 
One library I worked at subscribed to the view that we believe what our customers tell us, so if they owed fines or lost material charges, and they explained that they didn't (for whatever reason), staff is empowered to waive the charges if they see fit. So the organization acknowledged and accepted that, sometimes, we were right and the customer owed us, but under certain circumstances, it was okay to chose to be kind instead. Were we taken advantage of? Were there times when we were right and the customer was wrong and they were not made to take responsibility? Yes, indeed. But it can be rather freeing to know you can decide to be kind instead of right. Sometimes.

I now drive to work through a downtown area in which it seems there are more lights and crosswalks than there are people. This tends to result in irritable drivers. At least for this driver. The other day, I watched someone start to cross the street, not at a crosswalk, and not with a light. Fortunately for her, the person in the car in front of me was paying attention. Just as the pedestrian noticed a car coming and started to turn back, the car stopped, and the driver waved the pedestrian on. Could he have kept driving, probably in a hurry from all those lights, and made the pedestrian wait? Yes, the pedestrian saw him in time. Should he have had to stop when someone was trying to cross the street without a crosswalk and any kind of light? I don't think so. But he did. He was just a nice guy doing the kind thing. 

There are bigger examples, too. People are starting to donate to relief efforts in the Philippines. Maybe even the same people who donated after Hurricane Katrina or the earthquake in Haiti. They certainly don't have to. They earned their money, and no one's going to make them give it away (except, perhaps, the Tax Man). But sometimes, we do choose to be kind to one another. Let's don't get into a discussion of Obamacare, but I would like to point out that it is another huge example of an attempt at kindness. The government may or may not owe its citizens health care--remember, I promised we weren't going to discuss this--but it's trying awfully hard to offer a human kindness.

I was at dinner with a group recently, and, bless her heart, that waitress was having a bad night. Dinner was delayed. And delayed some more. The waitress apologize several times, yet, still no dinner. Would we have been within our rights to complain? Ask for the owner? Tip badly? Probably. Did we? No. It felt a lot better to say "no problem" and laugh at how busy it was. We could have made her night even worse than it was, and instead, maybe we made it a little easier.

This philosophy seems to be the foundation for good customer service. Every day, customers ask for things that are against established rules and policies. I know it's past 30 days, but can't I return this anyway? I know I was overdrawn, but look, here's a check, can't you refund the fee you charged? I know your chef did all the same work to make this dish, but it turns out not to be what I wanted, can't you make me something else and not charge me for it? In the interest of making the customer happy, people make exceptions every day, setting aside rules, even though they're technically in the right, and just doing what's being asked. The Bible says not to turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you. Seems like it's pretty much saying to be kind rather than right. 

As the second half of this quote indicates, sometimes, it's a matter of just shutting up (maybe that's why I've had trouble with this in the past). It doesn't matter how smart you are, or whether or not you're correct. It might just be more important to listen and hear what someone else needs. Being kind is about letting someone else be right.

This all makes it sound like it's easy. It's not. Or maybe that's just me. It's hard to give in or give up, at least, if you're going to view it as giving in or giving up (maybe it starts by not viewing it that way). And I'm not saying you shouldn't fight for what's owed to you. If you don't stand up for your rights, well, who will? But here's what's really great about being kind. Sometimes, being kind IS the right thing.